>>5202505In what once was Fort Acestros, bulwark against demonkind, now barely three walls and a watchtower all covered in undead muck, a young girl shields her face from an exploding mirror.
The shards don't fly far, and fall before reaching her face.
“Sweetie!!! Are you OK?” A flying skull, wreathed in blue flames, reaches towards the girl, bleached bone prodding the girl for even the most minuscule wound. “Don't cry! Daddy is here for you! It doesn't matter how many times you fail, all you need to do is get back up-ACK!”
Clutched in the girl's dainty hands, the skull trembles. “Sweetie...?”
She rears backs her arm, holding her father as one would a ball. Her other hand points to the window.
In a perfect baseball pitch, the skullfather flies of the window. “SWEEEEETIEEEEEEE!!!”
Dropping onto a velvet sofa, salvaged from what was once the commanders room, the girl runs her hands through her purple hair. She breathes deep. It was just a setback. There were many champions buried in the deadlands. Even if this was the first time she had snatched a piece of one before any of the strong undead did.
Her grasp on the armrest turns white-knuekled, her reddish brown eyes narrowed, and full pout on her face.
It didn't matter! She had just lost a crow familiar.
She just needs to prepare another one. In fact, she better start now.
Jumping off the sofa, she reaches the ingredient shelf in two strides. Glovewort? Check. Bone dust? She just needs to grind more of it.
Dropping a shard of unidentifiable bone into the mortar she presses the pestle onto it. It flies off, falling behind a shelf.
It's fine, she just needs to get it back. Like she needs to get another living bird, even if the last one took her a week of walking to find. All because of an opportunistic, cowardly, GODDAMN BONE CENTIPEDE!!!
The mortar, that had been flying to shatter against the wall stops midair. And the necromancer's rage gives way to fear.
As if moved with a patient hand, the mortar and pestle float to their resting place in the tool shelf. The girl's shadow lengthens, reaching for all darkness in the room, and they pool together. Shadow atop shadow, until what dying light comes in throught the open windows dissappears.
“Did I raise you like this, Sana? Did I, young lady?” A long limb, maybe an arm, goes over the girls shoulders, reaching for her face.
“No, Mama...” Sana keeps her voice from trembling, as a claw caresses her face, and angry red line forming on her face, only to quickly blacken.
“Good, my dear. Tantrums are unbecoming of such a pretty thing as you.” The raspy voice continues, a shard of mirror flying towards the other claw. The being forces Sana to look up from the ground, into the mirror. “After all, you have found something much more precious than a simple champion...”
Imprinted into the seeing mirror, the slack-jawed skull armor of a Bone Centipede returns her stare. Inside, she can see the precious red glow of Crimsom Amber.
